Sunday, 27 February 2011

The weekend

Saturday was lovely, far more than it would have been without company - the talk and the tea and the cakes, oh my!... :D Can never get enough of fine company...

Today was no less nice, though weather is back to gloomy, dreary & gray :))  Lunch was murder and before it I went uphill to make sweets with mum, so I had foundation.. Haha.
          In the meanwhile, I am suppose to write - working on the Magra 14 scene - but I am practising.

Friday, 25 February 2011

Another lovely morning. It's been a while since I went out just because and stayed out for over an hour. The plan was to go check my snail mail and buy some beads and wait out the middle in the children's library. It was too cold for strolling, so before the post office opened, I checked out all the yummies in the main bookstore, then after the post office read all I could find about Snufkin, my funky green Snufkin hat on my head and my butt on a minute chair - as it was the children's area. Time flew, actually, and then people started coming int the library (I daresay employees there miss me since I've gone from thief to a pirate. At least then I would steal book INTO the library, not out of, whereas now I just nurse my Kindle...) At 9, I went to the shop to get anthracite-colored beads for my caffeine molecule necklace, and then I walked out. I mostly listened to a song about some Lion. By the time I returned, my 4am letters have already been answered and I could set the rest of the day in a plan. :)

I spent the rest of the morning testing the tattoo equipment on myself....  :D
4 am and the day begins with Holly's blog, my sensual, sexual, visual, fantasy input, and Drey's blog, my intellectual, literal, challenging, realistic input. The world is as it should be.  :p  In my dreams I've laughed so hard I actually woke up. There will have to be words with that myoclonic twitch of mine. I've lost my upper hand on the subject :)) But inspiring as ever, Holly looks like the "Red" between the Black and the White swans :)))

Couple new interesting sites... I haven't yet gone pass the of point-and-click approach, as the whole sliding, wobbling, zoom in zoom out thing either puzzles me or I simply haven't the right equipment for it (iPad! iPad!),  but this is a gloriously lovely site with another unexpected Harry Potter beauty...( who isn't that ghastly talentless Emma Watson)

Thursday, 24 February 2011

On pretty mornings in other cities, tattoo birthday gifts and why does Byakuya have to be the tragic (when it comes to love) guy in the ansamble?

Today (it was minus 11, btw), the morning was great. I got some good news, but upon return I missed the train by THIS much and had an hour to spend, walking around the city, all misty and bright in winter chill, listening to Hurt's Falls apart... Now what kind of a band calls themselves Hurt?? How can their music be anything but awfully sad?? Though this song I like. For all it's angst, it kind of feels optimistic. And why is every song like this ever/ALWAYS a backsong to a fan-made Advent Children video?? LoL    :p

On the train I began to knit a yellow scarf. I got my green pointy hat and now yellow scarf and ultimately I will make myself a green overcoat. I am most determined to dress myself as Snufkin forever on   :D

          The General, being a radical, has requested a tattoo for his birthday and as we cannot afford the sort he would like, we've simply purchased a basic starter's gear (as the tattoo is mostly tribal) and got my lessons from the Internet, like any insane person would do. I'm a short practice on grapefruits and pig's skin away from drawing on my husband with permanent consequences. Fuck it. It he trusts me, I can't think of anyone better. 

And why IS Byakuya so unlucky in love? As if the guy didn't have enough reasons to be an arse. Hmm...

Wednesday, 23 February 2011

Klavdija trial shoot

...The first shoot after eons... It was so cold it was almost funny  :p  Starbark kept trying to noose my feet with her leash :D  Man, I miss this...

Tuesday, 22 February 2011

Broken heart update... still not back on-line quite yet.

Lately, I find myself deeply torn by the fact I cannot love with my heart at all, only with my brain. In fact, when I am profoundly overwhelmed by emotions, they are intelligent in nature (or the lack there of), not at all perky and spontaneous. It's not that I am not in love - not at all. I can feel it in every fiber of my being... except one. No matter what I do or how I go about it, the heart remains mute. It's still there, I can feel it's weight in my chest, and it's rather warm, but it's entirely off-line. I can spend an hour kissing every curly golden hair on my lover's magnificent thigh and every sense in me will be in Heaven - except the heart. The heart will be somewhere a bit away,  looking out of the window, thinking of nothing, letting me do what I want, waiting for the time to go by...
          It's been three years. That's the proverbial cadence period - the half of the actual damaging affair - is it not? Isn't it time for the heart to get back into the game already?  I fucking miss it.
          I am SO angry for being robbed of my ability to love like a fool, to scream and dance and gleam like a mad person, simply because I am in love? I used to be able to do that quite masterfully. Now I just belong and trust and am curious about someone. I am an old woman regarding the heart. And it's crippling me.

"I used to think the keys, the doors,
The clouds that block the sun
Are all on my mind
Now I'm one with fools of love."

I miss that!

127 hours

Hah, this shows I could never be a doctor. I am actually nauseated to the point of vomiting, but haven't eaten yet, so...
         I've watched the ending to the 127 hours. Have tried watching the whole deal, because it's truly a well made film, but I can't. Ultimately, for sure, what the man did is an excellent portrayal of a will to live, the "There is no chance, no destiny, no fate that can hinder the resolve of a determined mind" if you will (Wilcox) and possibly something one simply does - something that's almost impossible to watch and still so very logical when you indeed are between a rock and a hard place. It's not even the fact that he amputated himself that's so impressive - it's how extremely thought through the whole return was - he didn't blindly run around screaming and bleeding. There had to be actual climbing involved.
         And then at the end there's that song and his insistent trek out of the canyon and I cried like a five-year old, it's THAT well done. Those poor people, who find him and can just stare and bring more and more water and the helicopter rescue, who makes him walk to the ride... I know that some die at this point. I think most who come off high peaks die like this in base camps. Their hearts just fail. Not this guy, though. This guy seemed to really want to die another day. 
          Well done, lad. Well done :D  I wonder if the Academy will praise him as well by awarding the young actor who did the portrayal? :)

Sunday, 20 February 2011

Bad dreams

I've been having bad dreams lately. I mean, realistic ones. About realistic choices, mainly fear fueled. Example, I dreamed that Lyra was being attacked by wolves. Two of them came at her and although she made all the submissive poses, like she does with other big dogs, they kept circling her in. I took her up and was going to defend her, but what was I supposed to do? I am fond of wolves, I wouldn't want to kill one and yet with wild animals it's do or die. A bit of snarling and kicking them in the snout might put off one, but two are a pack and in the pack pride is everything. 
        Another dream was about finding remains of a dead woman - someone put her frozen hands and feet into the fire and while first thawing and then burning, they were twitching oddly. Her head was also so displayed that the front broken teeth were clearly visible back in the mouth, stuck onto the rotting tongue. The civilized first choice would be to call the police, but the actual first impulse was to make myself very small and run away very quickly. (And then call the police.) Desperate people do funny things - who was to say the one burning the remains wouldn't just shoot me in hopes of prolonging his freedom?
         The third one tonight was about defending the General. In theory the General refuses to fight, even if provoked, because he could not control his punches and is a little too big to be just flailing about - so he does all he can to stay out of conflict. But considering how much he has changed since he's known me, it's not hard to see he would make a move if pushed far enough. In the dream I teased about a man in the crowd being handsome while taking his photograph. The General still fails to make a distinction between the people I find visually attractive and people I find attractive as people - very often these two are directly opposite and so I can tease him quite easily.. But the man in the dream was aroused by my flattering and decided to get higher ground and mock the General, who saw it for what it was and ignored the guy. Unfortunately the guy had an audience and was waving around and incidentally sort of slapped the General, who in turn began to heat up. This made the guy panic or send a rush of testosterone through his brain - either way, he hit the General in the face. Falling back, I caught my man to make sure he landed without his head hitting the ground, and then charged at the man who was starting a fight, hitting him up in the jaw and kicking him behind the knee. He pushed me away and I chased him, quite determined, while people were watching and probably laughing at me. I caught the guy on the road and I tried fighting him still, even getting hit myself, but at some point I pushed him unfortunately and a car that didn't see us, rammed the guy and he fell across it. Ultimately General and I were told we will have to pay 18.000 euros in damages for causing the accident, and that was that. 
         I am going to have to work on that whole action-reaction+long term consequences thing again. There was a time when I thought I've almost had it ...

Friday, 18 February 2011

Funeral party

Yesterday was such a spectacularly depressing day, fit for a funeral. I think everything about our trip to the east was bad, starting with a fight as soon as we got into the car (or even before, when some were being late), the weather, the road, the traffic, everything... And then the ceremony, which was ghastly, in a winter scenery so dreary that I literally jogged off the church hill to pursue a bakery in the middle of it, then jogged back to catch the ending, visualizing the sugar input in my blood turning the world better. I did not know the gentleman who passed on, though it seemed he was a jolly fella, those who knew him thought much of him and he was good friends with my dad's. Of course everyone there was my relative one way or another and I managed to express condolences to the wrong person, as it was the only face I recognized and it seemed safe enough to assume, as she seemed to be crying the hardest. This bit confuses me: everyone was crying so hard (though, granted, the singing band was so depressing even I did for a minute) and then two hours later, at the wake diner, everyone was chatting and laughing normally, especially the widow. I cannot imagine how I would appear to the world if something happened to the General, I only know the chances are I would stop speaking entirely and then follow him after four or five days of my own accord. I would only make certain no Christian priest ever speaks at my burial, as I find their speeches gruesome. Haha, the priest here, after the condescending propaganda babble he usually delivers - mind, the passed-on lad was purely atheistic, though apparently the family had the last say on that one - declared: Now let us pray for the one here present who will follow the soonest... Like, we're already here, all dressed up, if anyone feels that this is a good timing, please drop dead conveniently?  O.o  I know, right?! Like the morbid equivalent of wedding bouquet toss: here the next one to catch it, dies. 
             I have to say that what with the horrible songs and the horrid winter chill and the flocks of crows flying over the gray skies, and the people trembling in cold and weeping in sorrow, it was the worst funeral ever - and by these means the most appropriate one. I cannot wish upon the General to have to see my chubby white corpse in a casket soon. There can be nothing left to live for for those left behind. Okay, kids maybe. Maybe that's why people have kids. And it is certainly why they have the wake diner parties.

Wednesday, 16 February 2011

I've earned/saved up some money to get my ears finally properly pierced, the way I always portray myself having them pierced, but of course I made it only as far as the first art supplies shop and spent all the money on a set of Faber-Castel brush-point pens. I wouldn't have done it so quickly if I didn't happen to be tuning my brain onto projects for Drej, going over and over the Amano artwork, oh so delicate and busy while elegant at the same time... I know his medium is watercolor and plain color pencil, but... I love my new gain.

Not to mention I love the Fissshies!!! Yes, I finally got my Koi pants :D :D :D  And you know what? Fissshies are an excellent way to feel like you're naked while looking real good at the same time :D

Oh, and also - I am officially a jewel thief :D Only iPod Shuffle owners would know better.

The Hermit Kingdom

I've watched a ridiculously retarded documentary about North Korea. I cannot believe how dumb and malicious some people are - and they get air time. I'm embarrassed National Geographic sponsored the thing.
           The documentary is by some intrepid female journalist who manages to stick a camera crew to a doctor going to help people with eye cataract removal in North Korea. They use spy cameras to film the streets and the monuments and the people, constantly narrating how terrible the place is and how evil the leader and how terrorized the people and how horrid conditions that their medical and school system is in.
            Seriously, at this point I would shake Kim Jong-il's hand if I met him in a hallway.
            "The worst human rights violation in human history..."
            Yes. Because there has never been any wrong doing in American civil wars or at all on American civil soil *cough*slavery?!*cough*. There has never been a nasty civil unrest in any African country, which is for all intents and purposes a paradise on Earth? Nobody ever made Spain and Catalonia a bad place to be in at some point and there was never any such thing as an Gulags in Russia? OrMuslims? In Tehran?
             People seem to be blissfully unaware, or simply never bothered to pay attention during primary school history classes, that one the other side of every communistic regime, there is always - FEUDAL era. For those impressed by iPads and Chunky Monkey ice-cream - feudal era means 95% of people are so poor that they at times need to eat their own children to survive, and are birth-to-death defined by their status, whereas 5% are drowning in wealth and get all the privileges, which they then abuse and maltreat in pathological greed for supremacy. Born in a feudal time, a woman would have been a grandmother by the age she now finishes college and the only happines she would ever be able to find would be if she was lucky in marriage with a good spouse and a small farm with a goat somewhere. There would be/was not ANY education, health system or legal clemency for those 95%.
            Then along comes a wacky dictator. I have seen this happen with my own eyes in the case of former Moroccan king, for example, a typical communistic monarch, as ironic as that sounds. The same thing happened with Castro in Cuba, Mao in China and the Kims in Korea (not to mention the French a bit of a time ago.). It has also of course happened to my homeland with Tito. (Also a much beloved dictator who set remarkable foundation for a well established country that we now managed to fuck up in less than 2o years of independence.) They swept away the rich and the powerful with one brutal wave, and said: EVERYONE deserves a chance. Born the poorest of the poor, female, whatever, deserves schooling and medical care and legal system benefits. And a job and whom they chose to marry. If you try to sabotage this vision, sorry mate, no time for lazy, mean or greedy creeps now. Off with your head.
             Of course the American documentary stresses one magnificently idiotic fact: that there is very little of everything - that hospitals are very poor and that the economy is yet to take off... Funny how Americans seem to think that a poor country is an evil country. Like, they've brought this onto themselves for banishing the internet! Has anyone ever seen Nepal? Their Royal Palace is more poorly built than an average American barn - but that does not make it an evil, or ugly or at all an unhappy place. Nepalese people are some of the happiest I've ever met! I loved the line: "It is not true health care in N. Korea is free: there simply isn't any!" That's an excellent line coming from an American. Jealous much? I seem to recall another documentary in which people who cannot afford health care in the US are left to lye in the street?
            Without the dictator, without the fear, people cannot focus. They cannot go from being farmers and slaves to aristocracy and clergy  into being normal, independent individuals. Of course when you look at one man now, he suffers, but when you look at a nation, perhaps in 50 or a hundred years, it can go from the dark ages to what Singapore and Hong Kong are now. It takes time, it isn't easy, but that's how it happens. The Kims had to do it all alone - they had very little support, nobody ever just gave them anything. But they said: schools, clinics, police protection, no more status shunning, no more gender shunning... They may not be shiny and posh, but they are trying. The state of mind that we, who have done this before or who never had to do it, because we just invaded some nice place and killed all the natives away, have now, is a product of cultural evolution. People so easily forget not the whole world was glorious Vienna 300 years ago. N. Korea is nowhere near a happy place to want to own an Mp3 player, but it is on the fast (their famous) 12-lane highway to being an actual 21.century country to be.
           Shame on them for not having fast food restaurants and beauty pageants! Shame! Honestly!

Sunday, 13 February 2011

Ai No Kusabi

I came across one of those hefty yaoi mangas that I haven't been interested in since I nearly killed myself, watching Cawboy Bebop. It's called Ai No Kusabi and it's a super dark, tragic and more than a little in-your-face tale of caste discrimination and undiluted love, disguised as pure hatred. It's basically about people being separated by their genetic predisposition and in such a way their hair color speaks for them. The fairest are the elite and the dark haired ones are scum. The elites may take 'pets', often teenagers from the gutter and tame them for sex slaves. Well, one of the popular elites takes a gang leader that takes ages to tame and then kind of plays him for the psychological cat and mouse in which it's hard to tell who's the sadist ad who the masochist. Truth is, one does painfully love the other, just has no opportunity to make that a good thing. Ultimately the pet is kidnapped by the jealous gang member and castrated to be set free of the 'pet ring' that chains him and the elite owner gets a leg amputated in a rescue attempt. They die by inhaling poison intentionally and together, to the shock and grief of people who knew them.
           Like I said, it's ridiculously sad. The sex scenes are a might powerful. But there is no was I would watch it start to end, no matter how good I know it is. Knowing that Spike and Vicious die together also turns my heart to a stepped on bunch of grapes.

To have sex with Sepp or not have sex with Sepp... That is the pickle now.

Am in a bit of a creative pickle. Yestereve the kids were watching Mtv and two consecutive songs on a chart that kind of got to me, kicked me in a eerily creative mood. First one is screamy and whiny, but has this good line with a good backbeat to it - Bruno Mars's Granade - for a pivotal moment in the hero's life, when he realizes she's been right all the time and it's time to do something about it, because this is the woman he is literally willing to die protecting; and Adele's Rolling in the deep, which I think is brilliant and the video is sublime and finally we get a good singer that's not anorexic and screechy.
        So, I have a clash of two powerful (pivotal, if you will) scenes in the second part of the book. Last night I wrote how Sepp decides virtually in mid-step to switch sides of allegiance and  goes get Gorgo, who's in class, arms them both and proceeds to bring down the entire school. This silent, sudden cooperation between them is that much more powerful, because they go from being an instructor and a student of an impressive institution, to being two people that are better than that and they disclose the institution for what it really was. It's how the second chapter ends and then the last one begins, as they are already less prone to attaching themselves to authority. 
         HOWEVER. This scene, for all it's charged allegiance and trust, stands this strong ONLY if the two never couple beforehand. Problem is, the way they finally have sex for the first time is also my most powerful sex scene of any book. It's taken them years to get to here and now I have to either deny them this one good time, making their love story angsty thorough the entire span, or I have to find another way. 
         Man do I love literary challenges :D

Saturday, 12 February 2011

Road trip to K. Bistrica (... Stoney Springs, if you will, only way more lyrical.)

Starbark as co-pilot, we set off today for our first road-trip in EONS. The weather was wintery indeed, but other than that, everything was flawless. A beautiful weekend ride, a mesmerizing scenery, loads of inspiration, planning, plotting and scheming all out future suchlike enterprises. how could we not, with those awesome mountains around us? Hm. What is it about mountains that inspires people so? Oceans I could gather, as we all originated from them, but tall rocks? You see one massive ugly cold hardship and all you can think about is how to get on top. And over.

 The magnificent trap of Alps. This is not the place where you want to end up on a tiresome run...
 The King Alexander hunting cottage, designed by Plečnik, our most talented and praised architect.
 The beasts and the beauties.
 The goulazh with the mandala in the back...

 Jaka's crib ;)
 Barky managed once again to make herself rest like a lamb, tied like a sausage. but by now, if I leave her long enough, she gets bored of waiting to be rescued and just untangles herself.
 The magic kingdom.
 The finishing touch. :)
              We stopped and ate in one of the rural taverns, being served by a kind waitress, friendly cooks and delicious food. This is quite worrisome, as the waiters in the town usually seem like you're bothering them and they're only nice if they already spat into your soup.

Poor General, it can't be easy on him, knowing that when the shitstorm hits, he could walk home and I could be chainsawing an old ugly bed, after I've just poured a bag of concrete into the toilet. I am not CrankY when I'm having my period, I'm a frigging Kraken. But at least I am never boring.
          But we went onto a nice late lunch and then a chilly, nice walk with the river all filthy (heh. heh heh.) and oil stain swimming by, some dead fish and one black swan. Not too fond of swans, as they tend to bite and chase you, in that order, but this one was still dark, so he was young and nice. No idea how he got here, though. Amazing how such a large bird can fly. Ah, well. That day's done. Today I'm off to a road trip. I pray the weather will be lovely, otherwise we're fracked.

Friday, 11 February 2011

Minor panic attack. Then again I AM heavily medicated....

Mikro panic attack today, due to filth. Must have broken a dozen appliances and myself. Not saying I'm not super phobic about dirt, but phobia means 'groundless fear' and this is anything but groundless. This fucking apartment is so old that no matter how I try to clean it, it makes zero difference. I can scrub the floors *twice*, right on my knees and the moment it dries and someone walks over it, small clots of dust and hairballs pop right up and start gathering around ... everything.There is also of course the cast dust, that if you try to wash, becomes smeared chalk tracks on pretty much everything, and the dishes that everybody uses and nobody ever washes in my ancient, disgusting tiny little sink. For a moment I was standing over the pile, thinking I should just take a club and smash it all and then toss it. Could also do that with the disgusting linens on the bed that everybody's been using to get to the high parts of the construction and is now less clean than puke - but of course if I try to change it, I ruin another set. Doesn't help if things are protected - this IS protected. Dust EVERYWHERE, so thick it cannot be wiped, it can only be washed, and no access to wardrobes, because the tools are left everywhere (we are not talking hammers and nails but machines the size of me),  and so if I put clean things onto anything, it gets a) knocked over, b) touched or bumped by dirty things and c) messed around about while someone is looking for something else. Corners have been gathering greasy filth for 180 years, they practically SPAWN more of it. And I have to sit in this shit cage for 12 hours, alone, while people only make more mess. Taking a shower is something to do with your eyes closed so you don't see what has become of the already gruesome bathroom now that dirty stuff is just tossed in the proximity of the linens basket (and I'm not talking about used panties or slightly sweaty shirts. That's *pristine* by comparison.)  There is just no way to get to all the floor and banish it. Drop a hair pin and when you pick it up again, it has human hair, dog hair, dust, filth and bits of cast stuck to it.
         This is after I have swept, vacuumed and washed everything I could reach. I dropped a pin, picked it up and had a fit.

Thursday, 10 February 2011

PS   Can we please get more of Dev Patel?
I put on Bach and the Beast passed out in mid-play. Amazing. Explains why she is so wall-climbing while listening to Eminem or Pink. She doesn't like Mozart, the man clearly had issues. Hmm.... I wonder, though, what would happen if I downloaded Miley Cyrus? Would she commit suicide by jumping out of a closed window and splat! on the street?

On a more romantic subject... 
          Yesterday I watched Snufkin name an annoying, timid forest creature. He said: "... Teety-Wu. It's nice and happy to start with, and then a little sadness..."
           A couple of days ago I couldn't wait to get up from sleep just to find out who this Snufkin person is. The siren call of his mystery wouldn't let me rest and now that I know, now that he's shaken my world, it makes perfect sense. We have the exact same soul. nice and happy to start with and then a little sadness...

Tuesday, 8 February 2011

Blazingly pretty day :)

Doggie walk in the morn :) Goofing around :D

Culture day around here.

  I wrote a short story in almost one go yestereve. Wasn't going to, because the book has been going so great, but this story rang in my brain-cell thorough the whole train ride, while I was knitting. As if that wasn't bad enough, our window shopping in HN (Me putting my hands on every Apple product and the General in a super cushy leather sofa, watching 3D Avatar on a screen the size of our bed... Perfect fit, actually!), the flawless acoustics of the department were playing that Prince song, that just keeled my mood right under: When the doves cry. The story just HAD to be like that song! So, the ending was kind of self-demeaning. I came out a real cold bitch - I mean even more than usual - but by the time I got up again this morning, what might have been a tiny hint of redemption sort of bloomed into a perfectly perky and righteous closure. Considering briefly if I should include this tale into the first book, I've decided instead to simply begin the next one. No hurries there. I have all year to come up with the 19 others :))
            Not to mention I'm getting  a nasty ambition to make a movie out of this one. I do after all have an HD camera supreme 8)
Anyhoo, it's about a farm in the bottleneck of a national mountain resort I intend to write about, only to discover it is being sabotaged by a young  forest hermit.(Yes, it's titled I <3 Snufkin. No shocks there :p)
            I watch this odd place every time I ride the train. It's bound to have tales and I just am that kind of a detective :))

Monday, 7 February 2011

Gackt... again.

I've hit the point in 'Heart' where Foukrou features and it had of course triggered my Gackt period, again. Brief and embarrassing as they may be, ranking somewhere between my Hello Kitty underwear and my tendency to watch sappy TV medical drama, I often wish for them to pass quickly and then miss them when they're gone. Damn my weakness for tiny little Japanese freak shows. He just chose to perform Shima Uta in such a cool way...
I am very fond of this song. Now all I have to find is my Mp3 player, otherwise I'll have to take my knitting onto the train...
        Besides, I like the character of Foukrou. He's just twisted enough to be interesting and interesting enough to be worthy of a pivotal role. I believe there are too many unoriginal creeps out there. World deserves good looking nutcases.

Saturday, 5 February 2011


Meanwhile, I am getting kind of enchanted by a character from a children's story called Snufkin. It's not just that Urahara is based on him, and the closer I look the more I realize my Gennonsuke is also, it's the whole living-as-a-free-spirit, creature-of-a-foresty-national-park sort of a thing he has going on - something I feel deeply related to. Couple of kids did a movie about him and I think it captures the beauty of its loneliness and the loneliness of its beauty very well. And this is just out of park season.


...Otherwise he looks something like this:

Ah, if only my Butlers mug was really made of metal and my husband didn't prefer indoor toilets...
Lack of posts lately, I know, but I'm either running errands, trying to write (it's not the cool bits that take up all the willpower, it's the really annoying dull bits in between that have to be there to highlight the cool bits, but can't be so dull as to be boring..........) and especially, cleaning up after the boys are done. NOT my favorite part of construction. Sure, some day these rooms will look bright and shiny and full of Ikea yummies and funky friendly people, but at this moment, they are waiting for me to make them look NOT like THIS:

Wednesday, 2 February 2011

Tiger, tiger...

I found another poem that I really like. Poetry is such a kicker, if it's really really good. If it's really bad, it can put you off wanting to have anything to do with it for decades...

This one is by my old good buddy, Billy Blake.
TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart? 
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp 
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Dreams with Vos and geeky jewelry :P

Another gloriously psycho-schematic (haha) dream starring Arnold Vosloo. I can't help it! His totally unexpected pop-up in one of the best episodes of Bones delivered my wet dreams about that man straight into my main brain cell, and besides - in the dreams the leading male always only looks and talks like him. The overall actions are always that of the General. ;)  Overall, the two are basically the same. They're just the nastiest looking, largest, smartest, most dangerous and gentlest souls I can think of. One in IRL and one in fiction :))
        The dream was about things important to me. We were at a kind of a school-trip and most of the people I know were my classmates, including my family. All my friends were there, but also my sleazy ex husband. Problem was, by the end of the day, we were having some kind of a dinner in a restaurant and I kept leaving because there was some stuff I still wanted to check in the town. But when I asked one of my friends to watch over my camera, they hid or misplaced it and when I asked them to watch over my dog, they allowed her to run after me and get lost and I found her scared and crying in some field in the middle of irrigation channels. When I tried confronting them about it, they started siding with my ex - a zone I simply cannot approach, thus demonstrating a willing, to them a cheap, gratifying betrayal. Some friends, eh? In the dreams this is always the same - the event that actually happened - it is always someone I deemed a friend, joining sides with a man that hurt me - it has happened so often in fact it is a symbol of the cheapest of broken trusts. 
        Having managed to collect my photo gear, left lying around the restaurant, and my dog and some other smaller things, I asked my dad to get everyone (my sister, her mate, dog, mum, etc...) and drive all my things home, so I can finish here what I started. I moved my scouting of the town further down, where this one main street was something like Monaco - something that's really posh in just one long street. I found myself walking alongside to Vos, who was walking to his hotel with a briefcase and an overcoat over his arm. He was very pleasant and would talk to me to cheer me up. I was shy but excited and would talk back, of course, as I always do when I'm nervous, but he found that endearing. Truth is, no matter how lady-like and graceful and sexy I try to act, if I truly like someone, I always mess up the act by being me :)))
         On the way to the hotel, we sided into a smaller, darker street and he went to a jeweler to get golden cufflinks for his suit, ones that resembled some sentimentally important ones he no longer had. We spent about an hour there, me thinking if I should steal anything and wondering how come he doesn't want to buy me anything, since we're here and he is rich and I'm a girl. Turns out, he did get me something later on - not an expensive golden and diamond pendant - which I would never wear, because they always just end up in my jewelry box - but instead a cheap street necklace that I saw once and really really liked: 

This is a caffeine molecule. It is totally something that a closeted geek would appreciate :D  He got me straight as it gets.
          Anyways, moving back to his hotel, my classmates and family were catching up, as it was getting late and it was time to go. I also knew that it was a matter of moments before I get my period and my periods lately are like someone cutting off a head of a rhino. I tried to find Vos, saying bye, but between the hotel lobby, bar, reception and his room, I kept missing him - as he was looking for me to say he had a cool evening also.. Finally we did manage to meet in his room and kind of just looked at one another, knowing that in five minutes someone will barge in - my classmates or the woman bringing the cuffs from the shop or one of his associates.... but we still laughed and said 'fuck it, let's just do this', and took off our clothes in one move, climbed the bed and started falling on it. With an ample amount of lube, which I always carry with me just for moments like these, the initial penetration is awesome and the vacuum it creates makes the rest of the sex mindboggling. It was like a super-quickie, literally no more than three minutes of fast-forward, but it was still perfect. When people finally came to remind us we have previous engagements, we put our clothes back on, laughing. 
          When a seconds later in real world the alarm sounded and the General rolled over to spoon, locking onto my boobs and kissing the back of my head and back, his smell, his warmth, his teasing, it was exactly the same mental tone as the dream. But then the alarm sounded the end of snooze wonderland too, so it was time to stop purring and hit the deck. 
           Ideal start of the day, though. Thank you, brain    :P